


da capo

by krystallisert



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Lots and lots of Pining, Soulmate AU, Unbelievably sappy, Unrequited Love, and overdramatic-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystallisert/pseuds/krystallisert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. "Nothing could've stopped you from falling in love with Oikawa Tooru. Not the neatly drawn mark ever present on his wrist, nor the looks of pity on your best friend's face whenever she catches you staring at the brunet."</p><p>2. "Hajime Iwaizumi thinks that the lack of a mark can be as much of a hint as the presence of one."</p><p>3. "It all starts when Tooru Oikawa's parents decide to get a divorce. He makes up his mind then and there; he never wants to fall in love, soulmates and 'true love' be damned." </p><p>da capo (adverb or adjective  da ca·po \dä-ˈkä-(ˌ)pō, də-\)<br/>:  from the beginning —used as a direction in music to repeat</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. overture

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I just want to preface this with a kinda lengthy authors note that no one's probably interested in. Feel free to skip them, haha.
> 
> So, when I first started writing fanfiction, I was just a wee child; probably around 11 or 12 years old. I found it so fascinating that you could ACTUALLY write stuff in already existing universes and fandoms, and I was really giddy about it. Thing was, I was barely fluent in my own language, so you can probably imagine it wasn't very well written. And boy did I hear it – I'm all of constructive criticism, but I still vividly remember one review telling me I was retarded and should just go play in traffic. It was pretty jarring for me, still new to the internet and not having grown thick enough skin yet, and pretty much turned me off writing for many years. 
> 
> When I made this user and posted my first work, I was terrified. Every time I got an email from the site I got really scared that someone was making fun of me or telling me I sucked. Instead, I just kept getting told that people left kudos on my stuff; and I even got some really nice comments! It really gave me back the enthusiasm and drive that I had as a child, not to mention I started believing in my own writing for like the first time ever, which is such a cool feeling! 
> 
> I really appreciate everyone who took the time to leave a kudos on my work, and I adore the people who left comments on it. I saw the work in question was getting really close to 100 kudos, and I thought to myself that if it broke a hundred I wanted to write and post this as a sort of 'thank you'. It might sound stupid and dramatic, but this actually means a great deal to me, and I am beyond touched and thankful. I really hope that some of the people who read/kudos'd/bookmarked/commented 'pinch' looks though the Oikawa/Reader tags and finds this (and enjoy it, hopefully) – this is dedicated to you wonderful people.

 

**overture**

_noun_ over·ture \ˈō-və(r)-ˌchu̇r, -chər, -ˌtyu̇r, -ˌtu̇r\

: a piece of music played at the start of an opera, a musical play, etc.

: something that is offered or suggested with the hope that it will start a relationship, lead to an agreement, etc.

: the first part of an event : the beginning of something

* * *

  **  
  
(intro)**  
  
The idea of a soulmate is quite the romantic one, you think longingly at the tender age of eight.  
  
By this time, a lot of your friends and fellow students have already gotten a mark on their wrist; seemingly random illustrations that are supposed to give you some sort of hint about your perfect match.  
  
What it means is this; somewhere, somehow there is a person the universe has deemed 'the one' for you. The one that perfectly compliments you and the one that will enrich your life in a way no one else can.  
  
Your wrist will still be clean, even ten years in the future.  
  
What that means is this; your soulmate is somewhere beyond your reach, or maybe they're going to die before having the chance to meet you. Perhaps they never existed at all. Or maybe – and this is the one that breaks your heart the most – you're not their soulmate in return.  
  
  
 **(verse I)**  
  
Not getting a mark is unusual but not unheard of, and it's the cause of quite a lot of angst as you enter your teenage years. You realize the chances are getting slimmer and slimmer as you age, and the day your mother stops reassuring you that you're just a 'late bloomer' is one filled with tears, anger and a strange kind of grief for the person you'll probably never meet (you hope they never even existed, the thoughts of death and possibilities of unrequited love hurts your fragile, little heart).  
  
You don't _need_ a soulmate to be happy, your father comforts, though the words feel rather empty coming from someone with not only a mark, but their universe-handpicked partner by their side. He pulls up the divorce statistics in an attempt to cheer you up or completely turn you off the aspect of love (it's not always easy to say with doting fathers), but it only makes you sadder. If not even finding your soulmate ensures you happiness, what's the point of it all?  
  
The first time you become infatuated, you're rejected on the basis of not having a matching mark on your wrist, and you punch the poor kid in the face.  
  
  
 **(pre-chorus)  
**  
Nothing could've stopped you from falling in love with Oikawa Tooru. Not the neatly drawn mark ever present on his wrist, nor the looks of pity on your best friend's face whenever she catches you staring at the brunet.  
  
You meet him in junior high, and he's all smiles and enthusiasm. It's no wonder he's so popular, he seems to be the embodiment of “girls want him, boys want to be him”, and you're ashamed to say that you're intrigued from the moment he steps into the classroom for the first time.  
  
He's unreachable, almost, in the way that people always flock around him. There's never any room beside him, every side taken up by either his friend Iwaizumi or some random person who longs to bask in the sunshine that seems to surround him at all times.  
  
He's unreachable; so knowable in the way that he seems to exude personality and emotions with wide gestures and even wider smiles, yet so unknowable in that everything he is is like a shared object; never reserved for one person only.  
  
So you're limited to watching him from the comfort of your own desk, never finding an opportunity (or the courage) to actually speak to the boy.  
  
The interest does vane somewhat in the first few weeks of school and for a while, Oikawa is sorta under your radar.  
  
But when he finally does enter your life, he does so with a bang.  
  
(which is fitting, in a way)  
  
  
 **(chorus)**  
  
Here's how it happens: with a study group.  
  
Over the years, you've watched the brunet go from 'that one popular guy in school' to 'teenage heartthrob'; girls steal glimpses of his exposed wrists and sigh in disappointment when the mark doesn't match their own, guys fall over themselves trying to be his friend. You've kept your distance, more than happy with observing from afar; amused by the enigma that is Tooru Oikawa.  
  
This is why you're so surprised when the boy marches over to your desk one day (intimidating best friend in tow) and looms over your sitting form in all his tall glory. Hajime Iwaizumi is standing behind him looking incredibly peeved, and you can't help feeling like you're about to be reprimanded for doing something wrong.  
  
Instead, you have to squint to not be blinded by the figurative beams of light that explode from Tooru Oikawa's face as he fixes you with a trademark smile.  
“I hear you're good at math?”  
  
It's as simple as that – what was once a duo is suddenly a trio.  
  
Weekly meetings at the library becomes part of your routine, and in the beginning you struggle with the fact that these two boys instantly treat you like an old friend. Your friends are jealous of the time you spend with the boys despite your repeated “I'm only helping them with math” and “it's in the library, it's not like we talk a lot”, but honestly you count the days between the study sessions. It's the highlight of your week, and it doesn't take many sessions to consider the two of them your friends.  
  
You enjoy watching them interact, even if it's in hushed tones as to not get a nasty glare from the hilariously stereotypical grumpy librarian. Hajime's seemingly unending supply of variations of Tooru's last name combined with insults make you grin, and Tooru's faux-offended act never ceases to amuse.  
  
You try to ignore the tugging feeling in your stomach that only gets stronger and stronger; _he already has a soulmate and I'm not it_ becoming a mantra you have to repeat to yourself as you lie in your bed after every session.  
  
And you know, you just _know_ , that this will end in heartbreak.  
  
  
 **(verse II)**  
  
One would've thought that in a world where there's actual proof of 'the one' people would stay away from shallow and short-term relationships, but Tooru manages to somehow find himself in one relationship after the other. He's the very definition of a serial-dater, and that would be annoying enough as it is, but for some reason the volleyball player has deemed you some sort of love expert despite your non-existent love-life. Thus, you're constantly giving him tips and mending his supposedly broken heart with each inevitable break up.  
  
He keeps not showing up to your weekly study sessions to go on dates, despite being the one to beg for them in the first place, and you try desperately to tell yourself that's the reason you're so annoyed with him.  
  
Not the fact that you have to tell him how to court the cute girl two rows behind you in class. Not that you have to tell him the name of the tall redhead he saw in the cafeteria once. Not that everytime he ends up screwing up his relationships you have to comfort him and inflate his wounded ego.  
  
Not that your gaze lingers on him whenever he enters a room or that you're paying extra attention in math to be able to improve the study sessions. You're definitely not annoyed by the fact that you had this uncomfortably realistic dream about him the one night and woke up covered in sweat and it took you ten minutes to calm your beating heart and you couldn't look him in the eyes for three days after the dream.  
  
You're not irritated at the little voice in your head that keeps reminding you that Tooru doesn't seem to be looking for his soulmate at all. The fact that your hands get sweaty when he sits close to you to copy your notes doesn't mean anything.  
  
It's all bullshit of course - but you imagine you're able to stay in denial for a little while longer.  
  
  
 **(pre-chorus)**  
  
“I'm almost surprised Shittykawa hasn't tried picking you up yet,” Hajime casually remarks one day. Oikawa himself has ditched your little study group again in favor of spending time with his newest girlfriend; a pretty, tall blonde whose name you've failed to remember out of petty spite.  
  
He _says_ it casually, but his inquisitive glare is anything but, and you wonder – not for the first time – how you managed to get into such a clusterfuck. You wonder if the forlorn look the boy in front of you is wearing mirrors your the one you wear when looking at Tooru. Glancing down at Hajime's clean, mark-less wrists, you feel your heart ache. It would've been so _easy_ to just settle, and you're sure you could've learned to love him eventually.  
  
But that's not fair, and you abandon the thought as soon as it appears.  
  
Instead you swallow the lump that always threatens to choke you whenever this subject is brought up and plaster an effortless (and incredibly forced) smile on your face.  
  
“Don't be silly!” your voice is an octave higher than usual, but if Hajime notices he doesn't point it out, and the subject is dropped in favor of fractions and numbers.  
  
When you're engulfed in the darkness of your room that night and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars lining your ceiling, you can't help but to cry. For yourself, for Hajime Iwaizumi, and even a little bit for Tooru Oikawa.  
  
  
 **(chorus)**  
  
Here's how it all falls apart: with a bona fide soulmate.  
  
She appears out of nowhere to disrupt your monotonous routine of going from 'pathetic denial' to 'slightly-less-pathetic self-pity' ten times a day, and throws you right into the pit of what teenagers typically tend to call “depression”. It sounds dramatic – it _is_ dramatic – but it feels like the end of something that didn't even get to start. It feels like when your father told you to throw out your raggedy, old doll when you were six. Maybe you're not ready to throw away the doll just yet (the doll in this case of course being the stubborn hope that Tooru would one day wake up and realize that hey - you're a girl too!), maybe you just like the way the raggedy and coarse fabric against your skin.  
  
It doesn't take long to understand how ignorant you've been in regards of Hajime's feelings. Selfishly you've thought to yourself that you've got it worse for having to watch the brunet continuously go from one girlfriend to another, but when Tooru introduces you to the actual soulmate, you realize how wrong you've been. The term 'heartbreak' makes a whole lot of sense now. You shake the girl's hand and inwardly flinch at being introduced as Tooru's friend. You are, of course, his friend, but it was easier being his friend when the girls he rushed to introduce came with an expiration date.   
  
It doesn't help that Tooru seems to feel the urge to talk about her all. the. damn. time. You used to be so mad at him for ditching study sessions to be with a girl, but you're finding yourself wishing he would spend more time with his soulmate rather than talking about her to you. You try to be more understanding (it's a big deal, finding that one person the universe wants you to spend your life with), but can't quite escape the bitterness (you're never going to experience this feeling yourself).  
  
The third member of your little study group seems oddly on edge these days as well, and you wonder if he's experiencing the same bitter taste of envy in his mouth.   
  
Tooru excitedly tells you and Hajime where they met recently (a cafe, or at the grocery store, or something _stupid_ like at the movies), what she looks like (which is so _stupid_ , you've all met her multiple times by now), how she's got the best personality ever (so _stupid_ – it's not like he knows every person in the world), how cute their texts are (she probably uses _stupid_ emoticons), their plans for the weekend ( _stupid_ ) and – and you promptly tell him to shut up and solve the damn equation already.  
  
“I thought you'd be happy for me,” his less-than-genuine pout doesn't mask the actual irritation marring his features, and you're simultaneously angry at him for being so goddamned _dense_ and feeling guilty for the outburst. You're not really angry at him, you have to tell yourself, you're just horribly frustrated with the situation itself. It feels so _unfair_ , and instead of doing the right thing (being happy for your friend), you find yourself getting increasingly annoyed.  
  
“I am. Tooru, of course I am,” the lie leaves a nasty, bitter lump in your throat and all you manage to think is _I need to get out of here_. You're forcing out excuses; there's an upcoming test, you're not feeling well, you had a fight with your mother this morning, and the rest of the study session goes by in loaded silence. You don't even notice how Tooru gets everything right without asking any questions.  
  
You leave the library first, rising so fast from your chair that it wobbles dangerously. With a muttered 'see you later', you leave the boys behind. Feeling _stupid_.  
  
  
 **(bridge)**  
  
Tooru doesn't show up at the library after 'the incident'. He doesn't talk to you – or even as much as look your way – in class, and it looks like you're back to square one; ''Tooru Oikawa: unknowable” and “random girl in Tooru Oikawa's math class”.  
  
Hajime tries to play mediator, bless his heart, but he seems to realize pretty quickly that the mere mention of the other male's name is enough to set you off and he drops it after the fourth attempt. You do appreciate that he didn't revert to “pre-friendship”-status as well, but it's getting more and more obvious that Hajime in particular does not need help with math. Well, you think, it doesn't really matter anyways. It's nice, to be able to sit in a comfortable silence with him, without Tooru's ~~energetic~~ irritating voice breaking your concentration every tenth second. If you keep telling yourself this, you'll probably start believing it.  
  
“Maybe you should've just told him?” he suddenly says on a day you're particularly worn out. There's a big test coming up and you've pulled more than one all-nighter this week; hopped up on coffee and the fear of failure.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
He glares at you. Hajime is not as expressive as his best friend, but you've become pretty good at reading his face, and this one definitely says 'don't play stupid'. He's got the uncanny ability to imitate the 'I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed'-face your father used to make, and he knows it works like a charm on you. You don't want to broach this topic, especially not with Hajime. You don't want to acknowledge the fact that this boy looks at you and knows how you feel, and you don't want him to take on the part as the selfless friend with the most to lose, not again. How shitty it must feel, you think, to always end up in second place.  
“I don't want to talk about it.”  
  
He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking at you with contemplation clear in his eyes. You feel particularly vulnerable under his scrutiny; you're a ball of nerves and the result of days spent suppressing your emotions is undoubtably evident in the circles under your eyes and the matching 'fed up student'-costume.   
  
"Fine," he concedes at last, and you're thankful by the fact that he seems to ignore that obvious traces of desperation that line your face. Everything is kind of blurred together, and you'd rather just focus on the test for now and figure out how to keep ignoring the growing pit in your stomach later. "he misses you, though."  
  
Every stinging retort in the back of your brain dies when you look at you companion. He's scratching his wrist, not able to meet your eyes. Again, you're hit with sheer appreciation for the boy in front of you, and again you entertain the idea of how much easier it would've been if you had fallen in love with him instead. You want to say 'you're a good guy', and you want to say 'the girl who gets to be with you is so fucking lucky', you want to squeeze his hand and tell him everything's going to work out. There are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but they feel cheap and more damaging than helpful, so you keep your mouth shut.   
  
Because here's the thing about Hajime Iwaizumi; no matter how many times he insults the other or how much it conflicts with his own feelings, Hajime is always Team Tooru.  
  
“She's not that pretty anyways,” he murmurs as an afterthought, and you laugh the loudest you've done in weeks. The librarian looks like she wants to kill you.  
  
  
 **(chorus x2)**  
  
Here's how he finds out (supposedly): through his best friend.  
  
That's what he'll claim later, but you suspect that's not completely true.  
  
In retrospect you should've known something was up when Hajime, who always manages to already be in the library when you come for the weekly sessions, sends you a text to 'start studying without him' because he's 'running late', but honestly you're tired and relish the chance to be alone with books and math and _things that makes logical sense_ for a few minutes.  
  
So when Tooru of all people sits down and stares at you, face uncharacteristically blank, you opt to ignore him; trying to drown out the loud beats of your heart by focusing on the sound of pen against paper. _I've missed you_ , you want to say, but you remain focused on your homework. He was the one who ignored you for weeks, he can be the one to break the ice.  
  
You don't expect him to say this, though –  
  
“Are you in love with me?” the question is surprisingly blunt and comes completely out of the blue, and you can't tell if there's trepidation or accusation that's laced in the tone of his voice; whatever it is, it makes you flinch. You notice the lack of sounds before you notice you've stopped writing, and it takes a few seconds (you count five, but it feels like _hours_ ) before you dare to move your gaze up from the notebook.  
  
The silence that fills your little corner of the library is heavy.  
  
“Does it matter?” you say at last, responding to his question with a question of your own (you know he hates that – does _she_ know? The bitter thought crosses your mind and makes you grimace just for thinking it). Because it doesn't. In this world, in this universe, it really, _really_ doesn't, and frankly you think Tooru's been aware of your feelings for quite a while.  
  
“Of course it do-”  
  
“No, really, what good will this conversation do?” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly, you're angry; angry with Tooru for bringing it up, angry with yourself for being too stupid to let a hopeless crush go. “Is your ego that fragile? Isn't it enough that you've dated half the school and found your goddamned _soulmate_?” the word sound like a curse. It feels like a curse. Saying out loud these things that have been in your head for what seems like forever makes you dizzy. You're going to regret this, but it feels so good to be mad.  
  
“You're such a fucking baby sometimes, Tooru. You can be downright insufferable and sometimes I wonder how I can stand you,” you're rambling, voice trembling dangerously, and Tooru looks shell-shocked. “You don't even suck at math, why am I even here every week?” At this point you have to take a pause, reining in your oncoming mini-hysteria and blink back angry tears.  
  
You have to leave, looking at the tall brunet makes you feel ill. You stand up, chair scraping loudly across the floor; earning you a stern glance from the librarian.  
  
“Yes, I'm in love with you, and fuck you for rubbing it in,” with that you leave your math homework and a frowning Tooru behind, almost running the entire way home.  
  
For the next few weeks you'll ignore both Tooru and Hajime and refuse to offer any type of explanation to your worried friends, and you'll convince yourself that you did the right thing.  
  
And then you try (and subsequently fail) to will yourself into letting the whole thing go.  
  
  
 **(outro)  
**  
Here is how it ends: with a knock on your door late at night and a pair of eyes rimmed with red.  
  
You feel like you should be the one with puffed up eyes and heartbreak visible on your face, but the quivering fingers and deep frown belongs to Tooru Oikawa. For a moment you're stunned – you've seen this boy cry on multiple occasions, but not like this; like it _means_ something. People like to say that Tooru wears his heart on his sleeve; that it's easy to tell whatever it is he's feeling just by looking at him, but you've come to know him better than that. What he wears on his sleeve is what he wants you to see, and what's inside his head is much, _much_ more than that.  
  
Which is why the sight before you right now leaves you speechless and a little nervous. The silence stretches out far longer than you expect it to; Tooru seemingly does not know what to say. You've never been this uncomfortable in his presence and after weeks upon weeks of playing the ignore-game, you have no idea how to break the tension.  
  
“What's up?” you end up asking, feeling incredibly lame the moment the unnaturally casual words are out of your mouth.  
  
Truthfully, Tooru is kind of a coward. You know this, of course, but it's still oddly charming to see him be so timid. He still doesn't say anything despite his mouth opening and closing several times, but when you're about to ask again he suddenly seems to find his voice.  
  
“I broke up with her,” it comes out in a breathless rush, as if he's been running a marathon. You're not sure what to do with this information exactly. In a distant part of your brain, the one that insists on being a good friend, you think you should offer condolences or something, but the part of your brain that you tend to actually listen to tells you this: he's here. He's here to tell you that he broke up with his soulmate. That means something, right?  
  
“Why would you do that?”  
  
“I don't really give a shit about soulmates,” he murmurs like he's confessing his sins, like you should know what that means. It's weird, hearing those words connected to form a sentence like that; has anyone ever said that? Is it even possible? It kind of makes sense when you think about his serial-dating ways, but it makes less sense when you think about your annoyance with him the times he couldn't shut up about his soulmate.  
  
Again, you're at a loss for words, stuck between pondering the possibility of someone _not caring_ about soulmates and trying to sort out your head enough to form a coherent reply to this admission. In the end it doesn't matter, because Tooru seems to be done with this subject and moves right on to the next, this time with no prompt needed.  
  
“Iwaizumi would be better for you, and he loves you a lot.”  
  
“Yeah,” you respond, because you really don't know what else to say. You know this; of course you do. It's not as if you haven't tried, wished even, for things to be different. You're about to tell him as much when he takes a step towards you. You have to physically resist the automatic urge to take a step back into your hallway.  
  
“I can't promise not to hurt you,” he says. A million different responses go through your head, ranging from the clichéd semi-truth of “I don't give a shit” to the scarily honest “I'd probably let you”, instead all you can manage is a single word.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
You swear there's a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it's just the shadows playing tricks on you, but it makes your heart hop in a way that's probably not good for your health.  
  
“I don't know how to do this,” coming from Tooru, who's always been suave and a smooth talker, it's almost kind of funny how frustrated he sounds. This is the part he doesn't want anyone to see; the part that gets depressed at a loss and angry at an opponent he can't beat. The part that's not certain that he's making the right descisions and that fears what the future brings. Incidentially, it's your favorite part.  
  
“I can tell,” it's your turn to smile. His fingers edges closer to the hand hanging limp at your side, pausing then reaching as if still unsure. It feels like electricy every time he accidentially touches your fingertips.  
  
“I'm scared.”  
  
He's so close you feel the words against your skin with each whispered syllable. It feels intimate, like you're sharing a secret. You reach for his still fidgeting fingers and interlace them with your own, a sort of quiet reassurance. He squeezes your hand and lets out a shaky breath that caresses your nose. It fills your nostrils with a minty smell so intense it almost makes your eyes tear up. If the tone hadn't been so serious and your throat didn't feel so constricted, you might've made fun of him for that, but you decide to catalouge it for later instead.  
  
“Me too,” you feel breathless and dizzy, but you don't miss the way he shivers at your words.  
  
“I really want to kiss you right now,” as if to accentuate this, his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. And even though you knew it was coming, the confession sets your skin on fire. There's something about hearing it in his voice, knowing it's directed at you. There's something about the knowledge that you're not his soulmate, but Tooru chose you anyways. There's uncertainty and fear and exhilaration and anticipation. There's the actual soulmate, and there's Hajime. There are so many things that needs to be discussed, but you feel that familiar pull in your stomach and everything else seems unimportant.  
  
“Good.”  
  
The gap closes.


	2. soliloquy

**soliloquy**

_noun_ so·lil·o·quy \sə-ˈli-lə-kwē\  
  
**:** a long, usually serious speech that a character in a play makes to an audience and that reveals the character's thoughts **  
:** the act of talking to oneself

 **:** a dramatic monologue that represents a series of unspoken reflections

* * *

  
  
  
**(prologue)**  
  
Hajime Iwaizumi thinks that the lack of a mark can be as much of a hint as the presence of one. Maybe that's why he feels his stomach churn when he first notices the smooth, unmarred skin on your wrists, and maybe that's why he wants to run away whenever he looks at you after that. Frankly speaking, Hajime's not much of a romantic, and it never really mattered that he was one of the rare (un)lucky ones destined not to make that connection. He's got volleyball, he's got ambition, and he thinks that's enough to be happy. Content.  
  
But still, he notices your wrists, and once he does, he can't get you out of his head.  
  
  
**(act one)**  
  
Being Tooru Oikawa's best friend has its perks and its setbacks. Oikawa works as both a magnet and an impregnable wall. One has to be a certain kind of brave or stupid to approach the pair of athletes, and there aren't many people who tries. The ones who do get shot down so gently they don't even notice, because Oikawa's mastered the art of being pleasant and cordial without actually inviting anyone into his personal circle. He likes having people at an arm's length.  
  
Usually, Iwaizumi would be thankful for the people who don't try to approach the volleyball duo. He has no problem approaching the people who catch his interest himself, and he's learned that the moths attracted to the flame that is Tooru rarely stay for long. But with you, he's strangely uncertain. He's looking for some kind of sign; any little inkling that the growing warmth in his stomach comes from something more real than his rather sudden wish to have a soulmate.  
  
To his credit, he does realize rather quickly that he's projecting. You're one of the select few who seems uninterested in Oikawa's freakish charisma and charm (which in and of itself is enough to make him respect you), but in reality, Iwaizumi knows only your name and not much more.  
  
The years go by and you never get put in the same group for projects. You eyes never randomly meet, and Iwaizumi has to come to terms with the fact that if you haven't shown an interest by now, you probably won't.  
  
He's quite successful in repressing his emotions, until one day, he catch you looking his way. He's absolutely enthralled with the nuances of color in your eyes. So much so that when you shift your gaze to catch him staring, he doesn't even notice at first. When he does, his face goes completely red, and he's about to turn his face away, mind already full of ridiculous ideas of how to get out of this class forever (he doesn't need math, anyways, right?), but then your lips quirk upwards, and every regret he's had disappears. Your smile is so faint, so genuine, it makes him nervous.  
  
_Oh fuck_ , he thinks, trying – and failing – to ignore the sped up rhythm of his heart. He knows his face is red and he knows he should stop staring. He needs. to stop. staring.  
  
Oh, fuck.  
  
  
**(act two)**  
  
The thing that makes Oikawa so good in volleyball, and so utterly annoying as a friend, is that he's very observant. Which means he's noticed how Iwaizumi's gaze seems to linger on you some times, and that he gets uncharacteristically timid whenever you're within the vicinity.  
  
It also means than when Tooru 'drops' his eraser right in front of your desk in the most cliched attempt at getting your attention, and when the arms of your sweater gets pulled back when you bend down to get if for him, the clean and unmarred skin on your wrist doesn't escape him. It's like watching a train wreck. Everything seems like it's happening in slow motion, and Iwaizumi can't help the feeling of dread in his stomach.  
_  
_ Never being one to dawdle around, it doesn't take long from the day Oikawa did his 'investigation' (his words, not Iwaizumi's) until he's tricked you into a completely unnecessary study group. “Unnecessary” because neither of the boys have any problems with math, but Iwaizumi doesn't get a say in this at all, as Oikawa just trots over to you without consulting him, forcing Hajime to follow blindly.  
  
The brunet's mouth stretches into the cheshire cat smile that never fails to make Iwaizumi annoyed.  
“I hear you're good at math?”  
  
It all goes downhill from there. _  
  
_ It's not surprising that Oikawa takes up a lot of space in the little study group, but that doesn't stop the fact from annoying the crap out of the last member of the newly formed trio. He probably can't even help himself, Iwaizumi thinks, because Oikawa always desires what other people have. Even if the only thing Oikawa is missing is the lack of a mark, which, to be fair, might be something Oikawa _does_ envy the other two for. Iwaizumi feels a sort of childish annoyance with the other male as he watches Oikawa fake stupidity. It's a very distinct emotion that the young man isn't particularly familiar with, but that he does know the name of; jealousy.  
  
Iwaizumi doesn't have this natural charm that his friend has. He's not entirely happy about opening that particular can of worms, because then he has to admit that Oikawa is indeed the more sociable, attractive and talented one of the two. One day, Hajime knows he'll get over this silly inferiority complex of his, but watching the instant chemistry between his best friend and his crush does not help.  
  
He vaguely remembers the first real fight he had with his friend; the one where things got physical. That one had been about a girl too. They were much younger back then, and Iwaizumi would like to believe that he's grown up a bit since, but he recalls what he said to Oikawa back then and grimaces at the itching feeling in his throat.  
  
_I saw her first._  
  
  
**(act three)**  
  
“I'm almost surprised Shittykawa hasn't tried picking you up yet.”  
  
Iwaizumi can't quite conceal the resentment lacing his voice, and the way your face heats up and your hand tenses around your pencil doesn't help. The boy in question has once again found himself a girlfriend, leaving it to Iwaizumi to tell you why he's absent, and it takes a lot of denial to convince Iwaizumi that you don't look disappointed at his absence. It feels like he's always watching out for you; by now he knows about your habit of biting the end of your pencil when you encounter an especially difficult math problem, he knows that you wear sweatpants on the days you're so sick of school you can't even bother getting up early to get ready. Of course, that also means this; he knows that while he's always looking at you, you're only looking at his friend.  
  
It was inevitable, he supposes, because this is real life. This isn't some fairy tale where the lack of marks on your wrists would be enough to bring you together, and Iwaizumi is starting to realize that it might have been too late from the very start. His wrist itches. He can't handle the look of pity you're sending his way, and he wonders if he even wants to know what's on your mind. When your mouth stretches in a far too wide smile and your voice comes out in an unnatural squeak, Iwaizumi regrets ever bringing up the volleyball captain.  
  
The rest of the session goes by in a blur of equations and math problems, and Iwaizumi is glad that at least some things are solvable.  
  
Truth be told, Iwaizumi is used to being one-upped by his annoying best friend, but he can't remember being this affected by it before. He's always been happy with being the background character – a sidekick, if you will – and he's never wanted something strong enough to let if put a strain on the friendship.  
  
But when he aims and hits Oikawa square in the face with a volleyball for the third time in as many days, the boy has to admit that he's angry.  
  
  
**(climax)** _  
  
_ Here's the thing about being Tooru Oikawa's sidekick; he never seems to win.  
  
It aches to look at you sometimes. By now, Iwaizumi is pretty confident that he knows what kind of fucked up situation he's found himself in. You're his soulmate. He knows because of the tug he feels in his stomach, the way his eyes effortlessly lands on you before he's even aware of your presence. He realizes how naive he's been about the whole “soulmate” ordeal. He really didn't expect it to hurt this much.  
  
Because it' so painfully obvious that you're somewhere far, far away, beyond his reach. He sees suns and stars in your eyes, but it's a universe that's not meant for him.  
  
Oikawa keeps talking animatedly about a girl he met at his favorite café, but Iwaizumi can't bring himself to care. He doesn't understand why the other male insists on bringing up every single female encounter; Iwaizumi couldn't care less, and your frown just deepens (“oh, I'm just having some problems with this equation”, you say, voice light and airy, and Iwaizumi has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes at how easily Oikawa believes this lie).  
  
“Oh, and get this,” the volleyball captain says, glancing from Iwaizumi, who's resting his chin in the palm of his hand and looks wildly uninterested, and over to you. You're not even looking at the enthusiastic boy anymore, instead looking at the math homework in front of you as if it's written in french. “she's my soulmate!”  
  
Your pencil breaks. It's an appropriate sound, Iwaizumi thinks, looking at the heartbreakingly raw expression on your face.  
  
  
**(act five)**  
  
It doesn't surprise Iwaizumi that Oikawa has deemed it necessary to rub his supposed happiness in both your faces, but it does (sort of) surprise him that the brunet can be so goddamned dense. It's getting increasingly obvious that you're in love with the volleyball captain, but Oikawa remains blissfully ignorant and out of touch with reality.  
  
So much so, that one day he coerces the other members of his study group on a _group date_. _Oh come on_ , he says, disgusting grin in place. _Don't you want to meet my soulmate?_ If it had been just the two of them, Iwaizumi would've told him to fuck right off, and he suspects Oikawa knows this, which is why he brings it up during a study session. Because Oikawa _knows_ that you can't refuse him, and he _knows_ Iwaizumi can't refuse _you_.  
  
If Iwaizumi is uncomfortable during the group date, you seem to be downright miserable. Oikawa's soulmate, on the other hand, looks like she's absolutely fuming, and Iwaizumi can't really blame her. He thought Oikawa brought you along to brag about his new girlfriend – as he's prone to do – but the brunet seems to completely forget his own soulmate in favor of chatting with you every time he gets the chance. The poor girl makes a few valiant attempts at stealing back his attention, but ends up settling for glaring at you with a stare so intense that Iwaizumi feels bad for you. It's no wonder you look like you want to sink into the ground, he thinks, and it's a mighty fine excuse that lets him ignore the blush that stains your cheeks every time Oikawa gives you a compliment.  
  
In the aftermath of what can only be described as the most tense group date ever, Oikawa manages to be even more disgustingly lovey-dovey than before; Iwaizumi can't help but wondering if his soulmate got a bit pissed off at being so blatantly ignored in favor of Oikawa's closest female friend. Whatever it is, it's pissing the male off. He looks at you, sees the bags under your eyes and the the tired expression on your face, and he wishes, not for the first time, for the courage to tell you how he feels. He feels, somewhat bitterly, that you're wasted on Oikawa. He thinks, somewhat sadly, that he could handle being the rebound. He hopes, somewhat pathetically, that he could make you happy if you let him try.  
  
But it's all moot, because Iwaizumi fancies himself sort of an expert in reading your face, and by the way your brows knit and your blinking becomes more and more frequent while Oikawa blabbers on and on about his soulmate, it's obvious that you're about to cry, or explode, or both.  
  
When Oikawa mentions the 'cute selfie on his snapchat mystory', the severe downwards pull of your lips implies that you've already seen it, probably looked at it multiple times. When he mentions her appearance for the fifth time, you look down at the stains on your sweater in a way that tells Iwaizumi you regret not wearing make up and fresh clothes (he wants to tell you you're pretty no matter what you wear). The way your face scrunches up at the mention of how Oikawa and his soulmate texts each other each night leads him to believe you just thought something derogatory about the girl. He swears he could write an essay on your mannerisms, and the thought makes him want to scream.  
  
You end up proving him right when you finally snap, telling the other male to (and he quotes) 'shut the fuck up and solve the damn equation already'.  
  
“I thought you'd be happy for me,” not even Oikawa's (self-proclaimed) cutesy and fake pout can hide the actual bitterness in the statement, and that's when it clicks for Iwaizumi, who has watched and analyzed his friend's behavior for years; he's trying to make you jealous. The realization makes Iwaizumi feel sick, because in all the years he's known the other male, he's never seen him care enough to want to make someone jealous. Not _really_ , for any other reason other than to make himself feel better. And it's all so obvious, then, that Oikawa's in love with you.  
  
The silence that follows your string of nonsense apologies is heavy, all three of you pretending to work on your homework, all three of you deep in thought. Oikawa's solving math problems on autopilot, you're staring down at the sheet without even moving a muscle, and all Iwaizumi can seem to think about is how stupid and naive he's been. It really did end before it started, didn't it?  
  
  
**(act six)** _  
  
_ Among the list of attributes found in Tooru Oikawa, childish and stubborn are bolded, underlined and highlighted. So it doesn't really surprise Iwaizumi that Oikawa doesn't even glance in your direction the following day, or that he goes that extra mile to ensure that the _whole fucking school_ knows that he's found his soulmate. He's always been petty, and Iwaizumi suspects that he's terrified.  
  
You, on the other hand, seems intent on pretending nothing has happened at all, like the empty chair besides Iwaizumi doesn't mean anything and like Oikawa isn't childishly giving you the cold shoulder. He tries bringing the boy up a few times following the awkward incident (and even more awkward tension now that Oikawa doesn't show up anymore), but judging by the irritated tapping of your foot and how you're subconsciously clicking the end of your pen, you're not especially appreciative of his attempts.  
  
Why he keeps trying? Fuck if he knows, he must be a massive masochist. Instead of doing what any hotblooded and infatuated young man would've done in Iwaizumi's situation – which is to take advantage of Oikawa's absolute inability to think logically and take risks – Hajime's trying his damnest to cheer you up. It's not that he doesn't understand your bitterness towards the male, Iwaizumi reckons he knows how you feel better than anyone, having felt his fair share of disdain for his best friend and his antics over the years himself.  
  
After a few attempts that ends in almost-arguments, he decides to let it go, at least for the time being, instead opting to selfishly enjoy some time alone with you. He knows very well it's all temporary, and that it might not be the most morally sound thing to do, but he allows himself to be selfish, just this once, just for a little while.  
  
It's not until Iwaizumi can tell your feelings and sadness is getting in the way of your studying he decides to finally bring it up again. He has to force the words out of his mouth, they feel like poison on his tongue, makes his whole body feel sluggish and weird, but he takes one look at your dejected form and the red around your eyes, and he knows that he'd do whatever it takes to make you feel better, even if that means handing you over to Oikawa.  
  
“Maybe you should've just told him?” It's not the best way to start the conversation, and he can tell the question puts you on the spot by the way your face tenses up. But that's another thing Iwaizumi knows about you; you'll try to weasel your way out of it if he leaves room for it, so it's best to be direct. No one has ever acknowledged the mess surrounding Iwaizumi's feelings for you or your feelings for Oikawa, but Iwaizumi suspects you've been aware of his crush on you from the very start. You twitch, either from reluctance to speak about the issue or from the crazy amount of coffee you've downed in the short amount of time you've been at the library, and you can't quite look him in the eye when you finally speak.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
He scoffs, putting in his most stern face when you finally do look at him. He doesn't know why, but you always squirm uncomfortably when he looks at you like this, and he carefully keeps this particular stare as some sort of secret weapon. He can practically feel the reluctance oozing from you, but he doesn't budge.  
“I don't want to talk about it,” you finally say, and that's all it takes, really. It's a quiet, barely there confession, but it's enough. It's probably the most he'll be able to get out of you without making you angry, and though your mouth didn't say much, your face told Iwaizumi all he needed to know. He feels sort of the same way he did when his first pet died, and he thinks it might be time to stop fooling himself into believing he has a chance. He treasures your friendship too much to fuck it up for feelings you can't reciprocate, and he supposes he treasures Oikawa too much as well (although begrudgingly).  
  
“Fine,” he sighs, and watches as your shoulders finally slump, tension gone. “he misses you, though.”  
  
His wrist itches.  
  
“She's not that pretty anyways.”  
  
He adds the last part both because he wholeheartedly believes it to be true and because he wants you to laugh, as he knows you will, at least once just for him. With this, he promises to let go, and he promises to be okay with whatever happens in the future. He can say this with confidence and know that he means it, but it hurts nonetheless.  
  
  
**(act seven)**  
  
It seems to come out of nowhere when Oikawa finally asks Iwaizumi if you're in love with him. Tooru Oikawa exudes confidence and borderline narcissistic ego-centrism, but at the same time he's an absolute idiot. He asks like he can't quite believe it, like he needs a second opinion on the matter. Iwaizumi knows this because he's known Oikawa forever, but the boy needs constant confirmation. It's obvious in how much he clings to you, how he always seems to go to you for an ego boost whenever someone dumps him for not being what they expected him to be, or whenever he doesn't feel like he performs good enough.  
  
It should've been obvious in that alone, how you never turn him away and always offer a shoulder to cry on. Oikawa longs to be understood, to be appreciated just for “Tooru”, not Oikawa: the handsome smooth talker or Oikawa: the amazing volleyball player. For all his attempts at pretending to be otherwise, Oikawa is a scared and self-conscious baby, and maybe he needs someone like you by his side to grow up. Iwaizumi hates himself for thinking this, no matter how true it might be.  
  
He sighs.  
  
“Come on, Oikawa, it's not like you didn't know,” there's a hint of irritation in his voice, and the other boy frowns. He looks contemplative, like his head is going to explode if he thinks any harder, and again Iwaizumi is forced to realize that there's a lot going on in that head of his that he just doesn't understand. They might be best friends, but there seems to be a part of Oikawa that Iwaizumi simply can't reach.  
  
It's the same feeling he gets when he looks at you.  
  
“Okay, look,” Iwaizumi looks at the digital clock on his phone. He doesn't actually need to, his biological clock already know that by now, he should be heading towards the library. Instead, he pulls up the the texting app on his smartphone and makes up a lame excuse about running late. His heart is heavy and his throat is closing up, but Iwaizumi realized long ago that if being together was going to make his two friends happy, he would learn how to be fine with that. “just go to the library, Oikawa.”  
  
He doesn't need to be told twice, and as Iwaizumi watches his friend sprint towards the library, he keeps telling himself that he's doing what's best for all of you. It's going to be fine, he's going to get over it. Something wet rolls down his cheeks, and it takes a second to realize he's crying.  
  
  
**(act eight)**  
  
The first time you tell him you can't make it to the study session, Iwaizumi chalks it up to heartbreak. Oikawa refuses to talk about it, and Hajime knows better than to ask, so he ends up as the third wheel again, the one with just about zero information. It's frustrating; Iwaizumi didn't give you up for Oikawa to go ahead an fuck it up, but from the looks of absolute disdain you send his way and how utterly dejected the boy looks whenever you're in the same room, Iwaizumi concludes that the brunet must have done something stupid again.  
  
The weeks goes by and he misses you. He misses you like he would miss a limb, and he is slowly realizing that he would rather you be happy with Oikawa and back in your little group, than not being able to speak to you at all. You look absolutely miserable, but Oikawa actually looks worse. When the boy finally confesses what went down in the library, Iwaizumi is once again stunned by the sheer stupidity his friend manages to possess in that large head of his.  
  
“You just sat down and asked if she was in love with you?”  
  
Oikawa groans and his head hits the table with a thud. He's muttering about how dumb he is and how angry you looked, and the question is out of Iwaizumi's mouth before he can even stop and think about it.  
“You like her, then?” the only response is a groan louder than the first one, followed by another _thump_ as the volleyball captain hits his head against the table again. The boys sit in silence like that for what feels like forever, until Oikawa comes with a question of his own.  
  
“You love her, too, don't you?” It's the ' _too_ ' that gets him, because Iwaizumi hadn't actually stopped to consider that Oikawa loved you. He knew there was something there, but somehow he didn't think it had gone that far yet.  
  
“Yeah,” it comes out shakily in a rushed breath, and Iwaizumi _feels_ it so much stronger now that he's finally said it out loud.  
  
“She's your soulmate?”  
  
Iwaizumi hadn't expected the question, not from Oikawa who doesn't believe in soulmates. Not from Oikawa, who doesn't believe in love and who treats the emotion like a temporary entertainment. His throat constricts and his wrist is itching almost painfully, and for a moment, he feels like crying. He is silent for a long time, staring out the window and looking for the right words.  
  
“Just make her happy, Tooru.”  
  
  
**(closing curtain)**  
  
Slowly, everything falls back into the same old routines. Well, not entirely, because you now know that both of the volleyball players never actually needed help with math. Not entirely, because Oikawa isn't dating his soulmate or chasing after girls anymore. Not entirely, because when you get up to leave the library after your 'study sessions', Oikawa gets up, too.  
  
And Iwaizumi?  
  
Iwaizumi's still learning to cope. It still hurts sometimes, when Oikawa forgets himself and seizes your hand, or when he walks in on you having a private moment. Considering Oikawa's track record concerning PDA, he's being very low-key, but Iwaizumi suspects that's more your doing than Oikawa suddenly growing a conscience. He's not going to let his pride come in the way of it, though, he appreciates the thought. He walks in on the two of you once; lips locked and your fingers hidden in Oikawa's brown curls, his hands placed possessive on your hips. It aches to think about, the image seems branded into the back of eyelids.  
  
It's not long after this particular event that you call after him as he's leaving school one day.  
  
“Hajime,” it's bittersweet how pleasant his name sounds in the gentle tone of your voice, and not for the first time Iwaizumi wishes he was more like Oikawa. The brunet in question is nowhere to be seen, and Iwaizumi realizes (and not without a tinge of bitterness) that this is the first time after the two of you got together he's seen you without him.  
  
“It's been a while since it was just the two of us, huh?” you say with a crooked smile. Figures you'd be able to read his face like that, figures you'd treat him exactly the same as you've always done. “I just wanted to,” you look away, the telltale signs of uncertainty etched onto your features. He knows you well enough to know where this conversation is going, even if you seem to not be entirely sure how to proceed yourself.  
  
He has to stop you though, not very keen on listening to whatever it is you feel like you have to say to keep his heart from breaking.  
  
“Don't get me wrong, I'm just banking on Oikawa fucking it up as usual so I can swoop in and steal you away.”  
  
It's the kind of half-truth you see through immediately, but more than that it's something between a confession and a blessing and Iwaizumi can tell by the quiver of your lips and blankness in your eyes that you're trying not to cry. He appreciates the gesture; truthfully he wants to sob himself, and there's something kind of tragic about _you_ being the one almost losing it.  
  
This time, you do take a hold of his hand and squeeze it. There's a jolt of electricity that he wonder's if he's alone in feeling, and Iwaizumi swears he'll keep this image in his head forever; your fingers intertwined and the matching emptiness of your wrists right next to each other.  
  
Love, he thinks ( _bitterly, sadly, achingly_ ), is as much about timing as it is about chemistry. But then, maybe none of those factors were ever on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell I struggled with this? Real life kinda happened and kicked my butt, so I've been down and demotivated for a while, which might show a bit. However, I managed to do what I set out to do, and the last part should be a piece of cake in comparison. I really fell for Iwaizumi during the process of this thing, so I have to go back and make him happy in another fic some time lol.
> 
> There's a scene in here that it probably would've made sense to at least reference in the last part, but that got cut in the final draft because I wanted it that way. Which is a bad excuse, I know, hope it doesn't like, ruin everything. I have some very specific thoughts about this piece, which is why I'm taking my time with it, and one of the things is that if you're gonna tell the same story from three different perspectives, you need to kinda think about "what would THIS person find especially important, what would they think about a lot". I do try to keep my reader inserts as blank slate-y as possible, but I still have my own "opinions" so to speak about their character and personality. Could I go back and put the scene back in? Probably. Tell me what you think, if you have any opinions on it.


	3. coda

**coda**

_noun_ co·da \ˈkō-də\

: an ending part of a piece of music or a work of literature or drama that is separate from the earlier parts

: something that ends and completes something else

 

* * *

**(12)**  
  
It all starts when Oikawa's parents decide to get a divorce.  
  
“Just because we won't all be living together, doesn't mean we don't love you, honey,” his mother assures him. And well, duh, Oikawa wasn't worried about _that_. Despite his young age and unyielding idealism, the brunet is smart enough to be confident in his parents love for him. This doesn't change when they start sleeping in different rooms, it doesn't change when his father's things start disappearing from the house, and it doesn't change when his father introduces his new girlfriend a few years later.  
  
A few things does, however, change quite drastically; Tooru's image (he can't seem to escape the looks of pity from teachers and the other parents, not even his classmates look at him the same way anymore) and his views on the concept of “soulmates”.  
  
Through the whole thing, his parents stay civil, and with time, they become close friends. His father and his girlfriend comes over for dinner on multiple occasions, and everyone tells Tooru how _lucky_ he is, to have such caring parents. _Lucky_ that their relationship stayed so pleasant. And this, this is what gets him. He doesn't feel lucky _at all_. The unfamiliar taste of bitterness coats his always smiling mouth, and he wants to scream.  
  
He decides rather quickly that if even being a universe-handpicked “match made in heaven” can't ensure that your partner doesn't stop loving you one day, 'true love', relationships and soulmates can suck it. He doesn't want any of it.  
  
(People always seem to look at him and wonder 'who is Tooru Oikawa beneath that smile?'. He's fake, Iwaizumi would say; he always hides his true emotions behind unnatural smiles and soft-spoken words. He's smart, Tooru's teachers would say; always turns in his assignments on time, never misses class despite his club activities. He's handsome, quite a few girls have been known to say; _did you see him look this way just now, I wish his mark matched mine_.  
  
Oikawa doesn't know what to say, he doesn't _know_ who he is.  
  
He desperately wants someone to tell him.) _  
  
_  
**(11)  
**  
The first time Oikawa notices his friend's wistful stare in your direction, he thinks, somewhat derogatory, that you're exactly Iwaizumi's type; boring and anonymous. Tooru barely knows your name, and he doesn't think he's ever heard you speak. When he voices this thought to the other members of the school's volleyball team, he's met with eye rolls and scoffs.  
  
“You only think she's boring because she's not swooning over you,” they tell him, and he can't honestly rule out that possibility, so he just grins instead.  
  
“I know why Iwaizumi's so interested,” the tallest member – his name is Matsukawa, but Oikawa just calls him Mattsun – says at last. He looks around the gym to make sure Iwaizumi hasn't arrived yet, before leaning in close and with an almost cartoon like conspiratorially look on his face. “She doesn't have a mark yet.”  
  
And, well, that's – that's _interesting_ , indeed.  
_  
_ He launches a full-blown investigation after this, much to his friend's annoyance. He asks around (you're smart, the teachers tell him, top grades in all subjects. You're nice, if not a bit lazy, others say, not interested in after school activities or sports), he looks you up (facebook tells him your parents are happily married, you have no siblings and you _really_ love memes), and he follows you around school (discreetly, of course, he wouldn't want you to think he's _stalking_ you or something).  
  
In short; he doesn't find out much. Nothing of substance, at least, and Tooru's inclined to believe he'd been right about his previous judgment of you as a plain and boring person. In a last ditch effort to get something out of the time he's spent trying to find out about you, he drops his eraser while walking past your desk. It might be cheesy, it might be something he's only seen in romantic comedies, but he's invested far too much time in this little project to be stopped now.  
  
He already knows you don't have a mark, after all that's what got him interested in the first place, but it still punches him in the gut when you reach down under your desk with a muttered 'I'll get it for you' and your clean wrist exposes itself to him. It reminds him of how he felt the day his parents split up, the feeling of dread that threatened to choke him when his own mark appeared, and for a moment he has the childish thought of chucking the eraser right in your face when you hand it to him with a polite smile.  
  
Instead of responding to your kindness with violence, he gives you a trademark grin and saunters back to his own desk, doing his best to ignore Iwaizumi trying to drill holes into his skull with an intense glare.  
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, voice caught somewhere between anger and panic, and Oikawa tries – and fails – to convince himself he doesn't find it a little humorous.  
“Investigating~” he hums, and that's when he gets the idea. It's a great idea, one of his finer moments, really, and he can tell by the look on Iwaizumi's face that he knows the volleyball captain is up to something before he even opens his mouth.  
  
“Say, Hajime, don't you need some help with math?”  
  
  
**(10)  
  
** You surprise him by being the exact opposite of what he expected you to be. He thought you'd be like everyone else around him; falling over yourself trying to please him and be of use. So when he actually has to beg you to help the boys out with math, he's a bit perplexed. When you finally agree, he inwardly accuses you of just having been acting coy, but it doesn't take more than a few meetings in the library after school to realize that you simply don't idolize him. He can tell you're a little intimidated, but with the way Iwaizumi's constantly staring, he doesn't blame you.  
  
What's even more surprising is how much Oikawa enjoys himself in your company. Of course, he doesn't really need help with math, and neither does Iwaizumi, but he appreciates how dedicated you are to helping them. He's delighted with your response to his playful flirting, and he's amused at how easily you blend with the two boys. You're not afraid of reprimanding Tooru when he steps out of line, and he finds himself wanting to keep you.  
  
Which is, admittedly, not actually a good thing.  
  
  
**(9)** _  
  
_ Oikawa does not lack in the self-confidence department; he knows he's good looking. He knows the girls he dates like him because he's handsome and nice, but he also knows they have no intention of staying with him long term. Because his brand doesn't match theirs, and despite the things called 'chemistry' and 'attraction', the brand matters more. When he realizes this, it gets a lot easier to date casually. He's got this reputation as a serial-dater, someone who just goes from girl to girl, but the fact of the matter is that more often than not, he's the one getting dumped.  
  
Not that it matters much, because you're always ready to catch him when he falls. It becomes the favorite part of the cycle of his relationships; the way you pick him up and mend his 'broken heart' with compliments, light touches and tubs of ice cream.  
  
He'd be lying if he said he hasn't considered asking you out. It's not that he has feelings for you (it's not that he's necessarily had feelings for _anyone_ before), he just figures it could be nice.  
But he's seen how Iwaizumi looks at you, and that works as a good excuse. It's easier to be himself around you when you're off-limits and your friendship is more important than Tooru's stupid impulses and curiosities.  
  
But then Iwaizumi, of all people, brings it up. He brings it up like he's reluctant to do so, like someone's forcing him to it. The remark (something stupid and derogatory about how you'll be the only girl Oikawa hasn't tried to date yet soon) sounds casual and is laced with the same amount of venom Iwaizumi's insults usually are, but there's something hiding in the intensity of the boy's glare that Oikawa can't seem to decode.  
  
“Oh, I couldn't~” he responds instead, fixing his friend with a lopsided grin. The remark itself doesn't sting, but it pushes the thought in the forefront of his mind (again), which isn't exactly what Tooru needs. In truth, there are a lot of excuses he could've given to not asking you out, ranging from _'but we're friends'_ to _'what if she says no'_ (the last one makes him strangely uncomfortable; the brunet chalks it up to not being used to the fear of rejection), but Oikawa knows Iwaizumi, and goes with the safest route. “aren't you in love with her or something?”  
  
“Don't be stupid,” Iwaizumi says through clenched teeth, his facial expression severe enough to scare away most people. Oikawa's not intimidated by that face anymore, because Iwaizumi has been way too liberal with the use of it in his friend's presence. Iwaizumi isn't the kind of person who lies, not unless he's hard pressed to do so, but he's not above withholding information if he can. A lot of people don't know that, but Oikawa knows, and he knows it's the closest to a confession as Iwaizumi's gonna get.  
  
“Maybe I will, then,” Oikawa threatens, and he means it to be a joke, but scares himself by meaning it. Iwaizumi seems to notice as well, and he scratches his wrist absentmindedly, a frown pulling down the edges of his lips. Oikawa never noticed the nervous tic before, but the other male's skin is red and inflamed and looks like it hurts.  
  
“Don't do it just because you're scared of being alone, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says at last before picking up his bag and getting up from his desk. Tooru watches him without moving from his own desk and thinks, not for the first time, that he doesn't give his best friend enough credit. He's probably right, too, because doesn't the brunet tend to jump into relationships to avoid being alone? Didn't the therapist he was forced to talk with after his parent's divorce say something similar about his 'desperate need of approval'? It doesn't matter anyways, because –  
  
“I was just kidding~”  
  
(he smiles and laughs at the way Iwaizumi's face twists in disgust at the sing-song quality of his voice)  
  
– he wouldn't actually do it.  
  
Would he?  
  
(he wouldn't.  
he couldn't.  
he could.  
he shouldn't.  
he –)  
  
  
**(8)**  
  
In the end, fate (the word twists and churns in the pit of his stomach) doesn't care about Tooru's internal struggles.  
  
It happens on a day he's sweaty and sore after exercising. Going to his favorite cafe is a last minute decision, fueled by the dryness in his throat and a strange pull in that general direction.  
  
He notices a few things as he enters the cafe; the long line, a group of girls from his school, and the pretty girl in the back of the line. The last thing he notices twice without actually meaning to, and it's because of the unintentional way his eyes wander over to her the second time that he's the first to notice when her backpack decides to tear open under the weight of too many books. An eraser rolls over to his feet, and when he bends down to pick it up, he sees it.  
  
If Tooru had been anyone else than, well, Tooru, it might have been the perfect romance novel moment. Hands accidentally touching, eyes meeting, the sudden realization of who's standing before him. She's blushing, staring down at his wrist, seemingly lost for words. If Tooru hadn't been 'Tooru Oikawa, child of divorce, disbeliever of love in general', he might have felt the jolt of electricity that people always talk about in the movies, and he might have recognized the flutter in his chest as pleasant butterflies. But he _is_ Tooru Oikawa, and when he looks at the neatly drawn mark on the girl's wrist, there's only one emotion filling his stomach;  
  
Dread.  
  
One cup of iced coffee, a newly added phone contact and four hours later, when Oikawa has finally managed to calm down his nerves and guided his thoughts to more pleasant places, his phone lights up and notifies him he's gotten a text. Only after glancing over at the screen does he remember that he'd texted you mere moments before entering the cafe, and only then is he hit with the actual realization that he just met his soulmate.  
  
_Sry, phone was dead. What did you want to talk with me about?  
  
_ Oikawa feels an urge to cry. _  
  
_  
**(7)**  
  
Here's the thing; she's nice. Actually, she's more than nice, she's polite and clever and doesn't push. She not like the other girls he's dated who seems to look at him as some sort of commodity, and she genuinely enjoys his company. She doesn't need to talk all the time and she's all around pleasant. She likes volleyball because she finds the sport interesting, not because Oikawa plays it.  
  
Here's the other thing; she's just not _right_. When he kisses her after their third date, he doesn't feel anything and his heart doesn't skip when her name lights up on his phone screen. It's the same routine he's gone through with a number of girls before, and he can't help feeling like it's just another disposable relationship. Which is, he suspects, not how you're supposed to feel about your soulmate.  
  
He's always counted on you to confirm his beliefs on relationships as non-important, so when you suggest that he takes some time off from the study group to get to know your soulmate, it terrifies him. That's not the way it's supposed to go, and he regrets bringing it up. Frankly, he'd only done it on a whim, a childish impulse on a day he felt especially envious of his friends' clean wrists. He'd expected the two of you to make halfhearted congratulations like with his other girlfriends, but in his rush to make you feel jealous of him (while he was feeling jealous of you), he forgot just how much stock you both put in the whole soulmate-thing.  
  
Oikawa finds himself desperate, and that's why he drags you both on the group date. That's why he ignores the reluctance seeping out of your pores and the annoyance etched into Iwaizumi's face.  
  
And, well – the date is _fine_. Actually, the date is _great_. But maybe not for the right reasons.  
  
Having his soulmate and the people he considers his best friends in the same room makes Oikawa realize that maybe _nice_ isn't enough to settle down with someone, and maybe he'd rather trade insults with Iwaizumi in the library than wonder what was the normal pace for a relationship with your soulmate to move at. But much like his 'disposable relationship' thought, he feels this is something he shouldn't be thinking, so Oikawa does what he does best, he totally ignores the elephant in the room, and focuses his attention somewhere else.  
  
Oikawa has always been a perfect gentleman. Despite his dating history, he's left a trail of pleasant smiles in the hallways rather than a tainted image and broken hearts. He knows what to say and how to act, and he knows how much to give and when to hold back. _'He always pays for meals'_ , they praise. _'We didn't work out, but he never did anything wrong'_ , they agree. _'He was always very attentive'._  
  
Unfortunately for you, that attention ends up pouring all over you. Oikawa has used you as his crutch on many occasions, it's something he feels safe about doing and maybe it's your fault for letting him do it, but it makes for a tense few hours. Iwaizumi seems to have simply clocked out of the conversation; his thoughts are somewhere else completely, the soulmate struggles valiantly against the urge to snap, and you can't seem to decide whether you want to indulge Oikawa in his blatant disregard of the person he's supposed to be dating, or if you want to smash the windows and make a hasty escape.  
  
Oikawa, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. He's vaguely aware of the tense mood and the awkwardness of it all, but he can't bring himself to care. In his book, the group date would probably rank pretty high on his list of best dates in his life.  
  
He just kind of forgot that he was supposed to be dating his soulmate.  
  
  
**(6)**  
  
To his credit, Oikawa realizes his mistake, even before he notices that his soulmate is looking kind of, well, grumpy. And yeah, maybe spending the entirety of the “group date” chatting up another girl – even if that girl is one of his best friends, nothing but platonic (platonic, he tells himself, desperately repressing the fact that he was going to ask you out the day he met his soulmate) – isn't exactly good etiquette. He doesn't begrudge the girl for being annoyed with him; in fact, he sort of expected her to be angrier. Maybe he even wanted her to be angrier, to just blow up and dump him and never talk to him again.  
  
She does nothing of the sort, even though she had looked pretty upset on the date, no – she meets him at their usual table at their usual cafe, and greets him with a pleasant smile playing with her lips. She doesn't bring it up, but she looks at him as if she knows something he doesn't, and it makes him feel uncomfortable.  
  
Iwaizumi, too, seems to think he's cracked some sort of code. Ever since the disaster of a date, Tooru's best friend has been eyeing him much in the same way Tooru's girlfriend has, and the brunet can't help the feeling that he's missing some crucial detail. So Oikawa does what he always does; he acts. He acts like he's not scared, uncomfortable and terrifyingly uncertain of the situation, he acts like he's happy and in love and that he doesn't wish for his soulmate to just go away and for things to go back to normal. He acts like he doesn't know how much his friends envy him for his brand, for his girlfriend, for this situation that Oikawa just wants out of.  
  
There's at least some predictability in the way Iwaizumi looks like his head is about to explode and the brunet calms down considerably until he realizes you've been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. Usually, when Oikawa brags about his girlfriends, you'll tell him to not get full of himself, to focus on the homework, or, if he's being particularly obnoxious, you'll badmouth the girl he's dating. Oikawa always pretends to be offended, but he's always enjoyed the extra attention you seem to reserve for him. Which is why your silence now is so unnerving. Oikawa realizes that you've never once said anything about his soulmate or his incessant need to brag about her.  
  
He takes it up a few notches, making an extra effort to mention his soulmate in about ever other sentence he speaks, but other than Iwaizumi's death glare and the disgruntled shush from the librarian, the world remains the same. You look a bit peeved, for sure, but you don't even glance up when he pulls out his phone to show off his new phone background, and when he asks what you think of it, your only response is a noncommittal hum.  
  
When you finally do snap, while Oikawa is in the middle of a detailed retelling of his most recent date with his soulmate, he feels a sort of childish joy at being able to coax a reaction out of you, followed by a flare of anger when you tell him to 'shut the fuck up'. Not a word about how his soulmate is stupid or that his ego is inflated, no – all you want him to do is finish the homework. Somehow, that makes the brunet angry.  
  
“I thought you'd be happy for me,” he says, coating his anger with a fake pout meant to make you feel bad. Iwaizumi looks like he wants to choke him, you look like you want to cry, and Oikawa feels like he wants to do both. At the same time. There's a loaded silence – Tooru swears the library has never been so quiet before – before you finally seem to have found the proper lies to dissolve the tension. It's an unfair burden for Oikawa to put on you, but he does it nonetheless.  
  
“I am. Tooru, of course I am,” you say, voice low and words hollow. It feels different from the other times, the words seem to have to be physically dragged out of your throat. “I'm just tired. There's a test coming up and I don't feel so good. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”  
  
You can't quite conceal the uneven, shaky way the words come out, and Oikawa doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing at all. Not when Iwaizumi kicks his foot under the table and levels him with the angriest glare the brunet's seen on his friend before, not when it becomes obvious you're staring down at your homework without writing anything, and not when you get up from your seat, dejected and eager to get out of the room.  
  
“You're so fucking stupid,” Iwaizumi hisses at some point, and Oikawa can't find it in him to argue.  
  
  
**(5)**  
  
He doesn't mean to give you the cold shoulder, at least he didn't intend for it to go on for weeks on end, but once he's started, it's hard to stop. Initially, he just wanted to be petulant, to act like a child for a few hours until you rolled your eyes and told him to grow up. But you _don't_ roll your eyes, and you _don't_ tell him to grow up, and when Sunday rolls around, he hasn't showed up for the study group and he hasn't gotten angry texts from you for not showing up.  
  
He doesn't categorize what happened at the last study session as a fight, so he doesn't know why you haven't sat down with him and Iwaizumi at lunch for a week, and he doesn't know why he keeps avoiding looking at your desk during class. One week turns into two (then three, and then four), and suddenly you're strangers again. Iwaizumi tells Tooru to just suck it up and return to the study group (or is it a study duo now? study date? the brunet cringes at the thought), but it's been too long and Oikawa can't tell who's the one ignoring who anymore.  
  
He's been abandoned again, he catches himself thinking, just as his soulmate sits down in front of him. Right. Not abandoned. He's on top of his game, he's good-looking, intelligent and athletic, and he's got a pretty girlfriend. His face twists in what he hopes looks less like a forced grimace and more like a smile, and his soulmate looks at him like he just grew a second head. She places a cup of steaming liquid in front of him and takes a sip of her own before leaning back in her chair and fixing him with an unreadable gaze.  
  
“Are you grumpy because of that girl?”  
  
The sudden question makes him jump, pushing the cup of coffee to his mouth and pouring steaming hot liquid into his mouth in the process. He fights against the urge to spit the coffee out of his mouth and ignores the stinging in his eyes, forcing it down his throat with a hard glug instead.  
  
“Grumpy? What girl?” He stutters, ignoring the pain in his mouth and the growing embarrassment of getting called out on his shitty mood.  
“Your friend. The one who has a crush on you,” she clarifies, unaffected by both his outburst and the implications of what she's saying. When he just stares blankly at her, she says your name, and even if he already knew she was talking about you, it leaves him wide-eyed and confused.  
  
The soulmate, by now used to the denseness of the brunet in front of her, merely sighs and leans back in her chair.  
“Just ask your other friend.”  
  
So he does.  
  
There's something inherently wrong with the whole situation, Oikawa thinks while staring at Iwaizumi, who in turn looks at the volleyball captain as if he wants to hit him. The situation should've been this: Oikawa with his soulmate, without all these conflicting emotions and confusion thoughts. Iwaizumi with his one-sided crush and you as a boring and anonymous classmate. Instead, he's standing in front of his best friend, asking if their crush has feelings for him because his soulmate put the thought into his head. Tooru's head hurts just thinking about it.  
  
“Come on, Oikawa, it's not like you didn't know,” Iwaizumi says after a long, meaningful pause. It looks like the answer physically pains him, and Oikawa supposes it would. He feels like he should say something, offer his condolences or apologize or something, but his brain has stopped working and he can't get his mouth to open. What does he do with this new information? It's huge, isn't it? Is it? For all intents and purposes, it shouldn't matter.  
  
But it does. Somehow, it matters. Oikawa has flip-flopped between resenting his mark and accepting his 'fate' with his soulmate, he's worked so hard to just be content with the way things are, so desperate not to – to what, exactly? End up like his parents? He can't tell why he's doing anything anymore, and he's terrified.  
  
“Just go to the library, Oikawa,” the ace tells him after glancing at his phone, and Oikawa – who's grown up with reading between the lines – knows what the boy is saying. He's reminded of something that he's always known, but is easy to forget with the constant insults and mean glares; Iwaizumi is a better man than Oikawa will ever be. He's a good friend, and he always, _always_ , puts the wants and needs of his friends over his own. He wants to tell him this, to thank him or apologize, but he takes one look at Hajime's face and decides against it.  
  
He practically runs the whole way to the library.  
  
  
**(4)  
**  
The way you look at him makes Oikawa terrified, because it's so incredibly different than the way he's used to being looked at. But somehow, he never connected the dots, never entertained the possibility that you look at him that way because you have feelings for him. How stupid he's been, to never even wonder about your clean wrist. How vain he's been, to just chalk it up to the same kind of adoration everyone else always directs at him.  
  
He's thankful you're not looking at him right now. Not even Oikawa could delude himself into thinking you just haven't noticed him yet; if an alien with no knowledge of human behavior landed on earth, in this library, at this very second, even they would be able to see how blatantly you're ignoring him.  
  
Oikawa fancies himself an eloquent sort of guy, but his head chooses this exact moment to go into overdrive, and what comes out of his mouth is not the carefully rehearsed apology he repeated in his head while going to the library, but instead a confrontational and much too needy 'are you in love with me?'.  
  
It was much easier when it didn't matter, Oikawa thinks. When the girl in front if him wasn't one of his best friends, when she wasn't probably his other best friend's goddamned _soulmate_ , when his own soulmate was just background noise, not someone with a face and a voice and a beating heart. Because he realizes right then and there, in the midst of hushed voices and the smell of books, that he's been an idiot. When he looks at the expression on your face and the way your lips quiver – are you about to cry? are you angry? – it's painfully obvious that you are, indeed, in love with him.  
  
The silence stretches over you both, seeps into Oikawa's skin and makes him anxious. When you at last look up, your eyes are wet and your brows are furrowed. And Oikawa knows you well enough to know that's not a good thing.  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
It's an evasive answer (it's not really an actual answer at all – it's a question, and the part of him that desperately needs to cling to the normalcy of the two of you sitting in the library together wants to scold you for responding with a question, because he hates that), but it's a confession, too, and it's a rejection and a sign of your insecurities all at once and it's all too much, _too much_ for three simple words stringed together with a question mark at the end. It makes Oikawa ache in a way that's entirely unfamiliar, and his heart beats too fast, his brain too muddled to think clearly before speaking, making him say the wrong thing again.  
  
“Of course it do-”  
  
You cut him off with a rapid, dangerously low whisper, and it doesn't take a genius to know you're angry. Oikawa doesn't see you angry often, and all he can think is that this is not the way he wanted this to go.  
  
“No, really, what good will this conversation do?”  
  
Oikawa opens his mouth to respond, but whatever clever line he manages to think up dies on his tongue when you speak again, voice raising with every word. “Is your ego that fragile? Isn't it enough that you've dated half the school and found you goddamned soulmate?” the last word sounds like an angry insult, and Oikawa realizes that he's gone about this the wrong way. While he wishes he never met the pretty girl at the counter of his favorite cafe, Iwaizumi's eyes always find you in the most crowded areas. While Tooru ignores messages, and spends the time with his soulmate wishing he could smell books and pretend to suck at math, you look at his wrist with blank eyes and a heavy heart.  
  
He's got what you've spent your life wanting, and all he's been wishing is that he could return the gift. How ungrateful he must look to you, how horrible he must seem. His hands move on their own accord, seeking the warmth of your clenched fists, but you shoot up from your chair before he can reach you. Your eyes are wilder than he's ever seen them before, and he's rooted to the spot.  
  
“Yes, I'm in love with you, and fuck you for rubbing it in!”  
  
You're gone before Oikawa can even gather his thoughts enough to get up from the chair, leaving behind an angry librarian, unfinished math homework and a blushing brunet.  
  
  
**(3)**  
  
“You were right,” he starts, staring into his cup of coffee. “she is in love with me.”  
  
Talking to her comes easy, and he supposes that's because she is his soulmate, after all. He thinks he's supposed to feel bad; he keeps talking about another girl with the one he's meant to spend the rest of his life with, but under her inquisitive gaze, he can't help but oblige. His soulmate hums, takes a sip of her own drink, but doesn't say anything.  
  
“Aren't you gonna tell me not to see her anymore, give me an ultimatum or something?”  
She sighs, “No, Tooru, I'm not going to give you an ultimatum. I'm going to give you a _choice_.”  
  
He means to ask what she's talking about, but his voice catches in his throat and he takes a large gulp of coffee instead. Her eyes never leaves him, and he feels vulnerable. The moment itself feels vulnerable, almost fragile, and Oikawa has the foreboding feeling that something's going to change in a big way.  
  
“A friend of mine dated someone without a mark once,” she says, suddenly and out of the blue. “You know how if someone hasn't gotten a mark by the time they're thirteen, people just assume they never will? Well, some dude transferred to their school, and poof – the mark appeared over night.”  
  
She takes a long, drawn out sip out of the straw of her iced latte, and the silence is enough to make his skin crawl. If she's doing it for emphasis, it works.  
  
“Not a lot of people would choose someone else over their soulmate.”  
  
She's right of course. Oikawa imagines your what your reaction would be if you woke up one day with a mark. The thought stings and burns in the pit of your stomach, because he knows how badly you want your own brand, he knows that the dark lines on top of skin means something completely different to you than it does to him. For you, once Oikawa's soulmate appeared, there was never any question of her place by his side. For you, the brunet has always been out of reach. Oikawa's realizing how much his mark has been affecting not only him, not only the girl in front of him, but you, and Iwaizumi, and his heart aches.  
  
His soulmate _is_ right. It's a risk. Oikawa is, he finds, pretty ambivalent about taking risks. On the court, when the ball is in his hands and he has the power to change the outcome of the game, he thrives on it. He's confident in his abilities as an athlete and he knows his team is, as well. Now, the thought of taking risks makes him want to vomit.  
  
“For what it's worth,” she says at last, putting down her drink and taking a hold of his hands. They're warm in his own, and her mark, identical to his own, stares up at him from the center of her pale wrist. “I _do_ have feelings for you, and I _want_ to have a relationship with you.”  
  
It's the first time he looks at her and thinks that yeah, he could've fallen for her, if things were different. It's the first time he looks, really looks, and thinks that she's anything other than an inconvenience (an objectively nice one, but an inconvenience nonetheless). What would happen to her if he decided to make you his choice (and when did that become an option in his head)? With his previous girlfriends, the thought never occurred to him; they would leave once they got sick of him, or once they found their soulmate, and he didn't dwell too much on the issue. But the girl in front of him has found her soulmate, she's supposed to be done searching now.  
  
“But I'm not going to force myself on you.”  
  
Iwaizumi's words from a long time ago echoes in his ears, and while they were meant for another situation, Oikawa finally feels he can take them in and consider their meaning.  
  
_Don't do it just because you're scared of being alone, Oikawa._  
  
He thinks he understands, then, how his parents must have felt.  
  
  
**(2)**  
  
(In his dreams, Oikawa is standing on the court. He can hear the loud cheers of the audience, feel the rough fabric of the ball in his hands. There's an overwhelming smell of sweat and tension, but all he can see is that one spot on the other side of the net, the perfect opportunity. It's a risk. There's a sense of finality; that moment of the game where you either make it or break it.  
  
He takes a deep breath, tunes out the voices of the people on the stands, and he makes the serve. He never finds out if he makes it or not; because he wakes up, sweaty and out of breath. Anxious.)  
  
His life is an endless repeat of 'make it or break it' moments. Getting on the volleyball team, maintaining his good grades, getting into a good school; somehow he's managed to make it more than he breaks it, but as he watches you from his seat in the classroom, he wonders if he really broke it this time.  
  
You're angry, that much is apparent. He hadn't expected you to just show up the next day and pretend that nothing happened, but he didn't expect you to ask someone in the other end of the classroom to switch seats with you either ( _she couldn't see well from the back of the class_ , his new neighbor tells him with a smile). He always knew you had other friends, but Oikawa's been so caught up in his own world that it surprises him to see how easily you go back to how things were pre-study sessions.  
  
It takes some coaxing and a lot of threats, but Oikawa _does_ end up spilling the beans about why you're so angry.  
  
“You just sat down and asked if she was in love with you?”  
  
Oikawa already knows he fucked up, but hearing his mistake in the dumbfounded tone of Iwaizumi's voice makes it really sinks in how insensitive he's been. He can't even bear to look at his friend, opting instead to smash his head against the table with more force than necessary. He groans, squishing his nose against the desk. Words are falling out of his mouth, but he doesn't even know what he's saying, all he knows is that he's fucked up and that he _needs_ to fix it.  
  
“You like her, then?” it's a rhetoric question more than anything else, and Oikawa hits his head against the table again in frustration. He thinks back to the first time he noticed you, and how he thought you looked boring and plain. He should've just let it be at that, let Iwaizumi nurse his unrequited crush and focused on volleyball and school. But of course, he doesn't mean that either, and his head feels about ready to explode.  
  
It's one of those things that have been sort of just a given, but Oikawa feels that he should ask anyways.  
  
“You love her, too, don't you?” the word, _love_ , comes out much easier than he imagined it to, and Tooru realizes that he might have been too caught up in his head to listen to his heart. Because of course he does, he does love you, doesn't he? It seems so obvious now, and if the two of you wasn't in the middle of a fight – a real one this time – this realization might have filled him with butterflies rather than anxiety.  
  
Iwaizumi's wrist is red and swollen.  
“Yeah.”  
  
A few months ago, if someone told Tooru he'd meet his soulmate, he'd scoff and shrug his shoulders. A few months ago, stuff like that didn't matter. He's spent his whole life disregarding the entire concept and simultaneously hating his parents for splitting up, he was so sure he'd stay the same no matter who his soulmate turned out to be. He didn't expect her to be someone he actually would come to care about. It isn't love, but it could be, with time.  
  
His mind is still filled with contradicting thoughts and memories of his last conversation with his soulmate, which is probably why he ends up asking Iwaizumi if he thinks you're his soulmate. He's been suspecting it for a while now, but it's been easy to ignore it while playing pretend with his own soulmate. The question seems fitting for the conversation, but Iwaizumi is reluctant to answer. Oikawa turns his head to look at the boy, and his heart breaks a little for his best friend.  
  
“Just make her happy, Tooru.”  
  
He finds that he wants to. He really, really wants to. But he's scared and confused and you won't return his calls or respond to his texts and you make sure to surround yourself with people at all times at school and he just _doesn't know what to do_.  
  
So he does the only thing he can think of doing, he calls his dad.  
  
  
**(1)  
  
** He spends twenty minutes in the convenient store, leaving only when the clerk starts clearing his throat and looking at him with a suspicious glint in his eyes. He buys three packs of mint flavored gum and almost chokes himself by stuffing all of them in his mouth. Hunting down one of your friends on facebook and harassing them into giving him your address was easy. Staring at google maps for two hours to make sure he'd know the way (and _not_ because he was procrastinating) was no big deal, and the phone call and subsequent meeting with his soulmate went surprisingly well, too.  
  
(She looks sad, but not surprised, and makes him promise to text him after to let her know how it goes. She surprises him by saying the exact same words his father had used, and she takes his hands and wishes him good luck.  
  
Oikawa is once again forced to acknowledge the fact that he's surrounded by people much better than himself.)  
  
The hard part comes when he leaves the cafe and his soulmate, when his eyes start tearing up and he starts doubting himself. He thinks about his soulmate's sad smile and Iwaizumi's nervous tic, and the stunned look on your face when he asked if you loved him. He finds your house and walks around the block three times, chewing gum until his mouth is numb and dragging out time until the sun starts to set.  
  
He considers just calling everything off and going back home at least ten times, unnerved by the way his heart beats like a war drum every time your house comes in to view. The thing people don't seem to know about Tooru is that he's an absolute coward. He's always been more than content with breezing through life; coasting on his intelligence, athletic skill and natural charm. There's never been a need push or go outside of his comfort zone, and he's never wanted something strongly enough to fight for it. He never knew wanting something could be so _scary_.  
  
The gum has all but turned to stone in his mouth when he finally stops in front of your house. He's cold and his eyes feel swollen and if looks half as ragged as he feels, he must look a mess. Taking one last look at his phone ( _don't wimp out, tooru!_ the text from his soulmate says, and, boy, she really does get him, doesn't she?) and spitting out the gum, he takes ten large steps and stops in front of your door, pressing the doorbell before he has the chance to change his mind again.  
  
He's about to turn around and make a run for it, all his courage and nerve pouring out of him with each second that passes without someone answering the doorbell, when the door finally clicks and opens. You're wearing sweatpants and a big t-shirt dark bags under your eyes the only make up you're wearing, and maybe it's just because of the significance of the moment, but Oikawa's never found you more beautiful. You look conflicted, like you're not sure if you're angry if he's at your door or not, and for a very long while, you just stare at each other.  
  
“What's up?” you finally break the silence, and Oikawa is taken aback with the casualness of it all. He can tell you're uncertain of his appearance at your door, and the attempt to act like nothing has happened pulls all the air out of his lungs. Whatever words he had at the tip of his tongue disappears and all he can do is stand on your doorstep, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.  
  
“I broke up with her,” it's not at all what he wanted to say, but it's the only words that he knows how to string together. _I missed you_ , he wanted to say. _I've been so stupid and I love you and I couldn't stand not seeing you anymore_. In a way, it's all the same, even if the words sound different out loud.  
  
“Why would you do that?” you ask, as if you can't quite believe what you're hearing. He's once again reminded that you care immensely about the soulmate-thing, and his soulmate's words echo in the back of his brain. What if you did wake up one day with a mark? He'd like to think your affection towards him would remain through even that, but the part of Tooru that made him walk around the neighborhood for forty-five minutes can't be sure. He's getting ahead of himself, he scolds inwardly, and forces his focus back to the moment at hand.  
  
“I don't really give a shit about soulmates,” he says, and somehow that's both the truest thing he's ever said, and a biggest lie he's ever told, all at once. He clings to what his father said to him on the phone, what his soulmate repeated – _who said soulmates have to be couples anyways, just do what_ feels _right_ – and he tries desperately to find the right words to express himself. You look shell-shocked and lost for words, which is probably just as well. You always find ways to make him off-kilter, and if you started saying coherent sentences, he'd probably hide behind his suave and cool persona out of sheer uncertainty.  
  
“Iwaizumi would be better for you, and he loves you a lot,” it's his attempt at giving you an out, but also a desperate need to hear you say it out loud, to confirm that you are, indeed, choosing Tooru. He's never felt so self-conscious before, the feeling spreading down to the tip of his fingers, making him fidgety and nervous. You can't seem to find anything appropriate to respond, instead avoiding his gaze with a muttered 'yeah'. He should've known better than to think you'd make it easy for him, he thinks, and forces himself a step closer, gauging your reaction. You look intimidated, but you don't step back – which is, he hopes, a good thing.  
  
“I can't promise not to hurt you,” _but I don't want you to leave me even if I did_. The last part remains unsaid, the selfish admission more for himself than for you. This _thing_ – whatever it is – between you feels fragile, and he's scared that it'll break if he makes another move. His hands reach for your on their own, seeking warmth and comfort, but he forces himself to stay still, keeping his eyes on your face, searching for a reaction.  
  
“Sure,” is all you say, but it's enough. It means something, and it makes him feel light and dizzy. It means you'd let him try.  
  
“I don't know how to do this,” he doesn't mean to say it out loud, but by the way the edges of your lips quirk up in a smile he feels he hasn't seen in months, he must have. There's a hint of concealed amusement in your voice and it soothes him, gives him back the courage he lost on his way to your house. His fingers edges closer to yours, but the jolt of electricity when they accidentally make contact makes him pull back. He feels like a teenager, too cowardly to make a move and constantly stumbling over his own words, but he feels _alive_ and excited and that makes up for it all.  
“I can tell,” you say, and the hint of a playful tone in your voice makes him weak in the knees. He catches you looking down at his hand, and his fights the urge to grab onto you. Instead, he takes a step closer, so close now he can feel your breath on his skin. It gives him goosebumps and he struggles to keep his eyes above your nose.  
  
“I'm scared,” he whispers, because he really is, and he needs your help to keep his sliver of courage and not pull out. You oblige, lacing your fingers through his, and he can tell you're just as nervous as him by the way your hand trembles. He tightens his grip, holding onto your hand like a lifeline and exhaling heavily.  
“Me too,” you admit, eyes not wavering from his gaze even once. You might be nervous, but you still have ten times his courage, and Tooru thinks that it's not wonder he fell for you.  
  
His gaze falls down to your lips, and before he can think to stop himself, the words are out of his mouth.  
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he regrets it the second he's said it, thinking it must too early for that, and the look in your eyes makes him even more anxious. But then you smile, lifting your free hand to his face and pulling down.  
  
“Good.”  
  
Oikawa's kissed girls before. If he's being honest, he's kissed a lot of girls, and he's also watched a lot of cheesy chick-flicks, but he's never really understood the whole magical first kiss moment that everyone keeps talking about.  
  
The moment your lips meet his, he feels as if he's solved an especially hard equation, like he just looked at the problem and instantly knew the answer. It reminds him of chemistry lessons in high school; how when if the right two elements were put together, they'd explode. It feels _right_ , so clear and obvious that he feels foolish for taking so long to get there, and all he can think is _more, more, more._  
  
He feels the taste of salt and doesn't know if you're crying, or if he's crying, or if you're both crying. He clings to you as if he'd stop existing once your lips leave his, and you give, oblige, press back against him. There's teeth and tongues and lips and hands and Tooru swears he doesn't know where he ends and you begin. He feels like he did that one time Kyotani brought weed brownies without telling anyone, he feels like the first time he pulled off a jump serve.  
  
_When it's right, it's right_ , his father said. _You just know_. Oikawa pulls away, keeping your face close to his own, and he laughs – really laughs – for the first time in what feels like whatever. And it's right. It's just _right_.  
  
  
**(0)**  
  
People seem to look at him and wonder; “who is Tooru Oikawa beneath that smile?” Oikawa never knew the answer to the question himself, but here; in tangled limbs and warm sheets, he feels like he's getting closer to figuring it out.  
  
Here; with skin against skin and hair tickling his nose, Oikawa feels content and at rest. He's not Oikawa: volleyball player, or Oikawa: womanizer, he's just Tooru: still figuring things out. He buries his head in the nape of your neck, inhaling slowly and deliberately, tracing lazy shapes across your abdomen. You're sound asleep and gone to the rest of the world, but Tooru doesn't mind. Most Sundays are spent like this; lazily lying around or watching movies, ordering pizza and long make out sessions. You mumble something in your sleep, and Oikawa pulls you closer, your back against his chest and his face full of hair.  
  
“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  
  
He falls asleep to the sound of peaceful breathing and the comfortable beating of your heart vibrating against his chest.  
  
(The ball connects with the palm of his hand.  
  
He makes it.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of hardcore projecting for me in this chapter, so I'm not sure how it turned out. I headcanon Oiks as being a very inwardly indecisive person, so it turned out quite indecisive in writing, too, lol. I wasn't ready to be done with this, so it's a week later than it was supposed to be done, but it's also 4k words longer than intended, so I guess it worked out. Thank you all so much to everyone who wrote such kind words on this piece, I hope the ending wasn't too much of a let down. Hope everyone's enjoying the new HQ!! season, come talk to me about it on tumblr (http://krystalliisert.tumblr.com)!


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